Wait It Out
by analine
Summary: Ianto and Tosh discuss relationships, Torchwood, and Jack over a bottle  or two  of wine. Ianto, Tosh, references to Jack/Ianto. Set between S1 and S2.


**Title:** Wait It Out  
**Pairing/Characters:** Ianto, Tosh, references to Jack/Ianto  
**Warnings/Spoilers:** none; set between S1 and S2  
**Rating:** PG-13 (for a tiny bit of language, and one mention of sex)  
**Genre:** angst/character study  
**Word Count:** ~2,480  
**Summary:** Ianto and Tosh discuss relationships, Torchwood, and Jack over a bottle (or two) of wine.

**Notes:** Set between S1 and S2, and somewhat inspired by the song _Wait It Out_ by Imogen Heap, but not exactly a song fic. ;) Mostly just a conversation between the two of them that I've been wanting to write for a while. I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

_Everybody says time heals everything.  
But what of the wretched hollow, the endless in between?  
Are we just going to wait it out?_

* * *

"Does he give you what you want?" Tosh asks, and Ianto can tell she's choosing her words carefully as she studies his face over the top of her wine glass.

Tosh is always careful, with pretty much everything, and everyone, and Ianto respects that, he thinks, as he tips his glass to his lips, not terribly quick to answer. He knows that it's probably more of a rhetorical question, anyway.

Ianto sighs. He's tired. It's been a long week, a long month.

Tosh's apartment is stylish, but inviting, even if being here reminds him of cracked ribs and bruises and the taste of blood in his mouth and feeling so completely broken that he wasn't sure he'd ever knit back together correctly again. That's the last time he was here, he realizes. After the Beacons, when it should have been Jack, but it wasn't, it was Tosh, holding him up while he was falling apart all over her kitchen floor. Maybe she thinks he's going to do that again, now; maybe that's why she invited him over tonight.

"When he's here, I mean..." Tosh clarifies, as if it hasn't been a good minute, minute and a half since she's spoken. She takes a sip of her wine.

Across the table, a candle flickers, one of those large, unscented ones with too many wicks. She's got them all lit, and the patterns dance across the stark wall.

"I don't know," Ianto says. He'd like to answer honestly, rhetorical or not, but he's not sure where that honesty is, anymore. "Sometimes, I guess."

Tosh just nods, like she understands and he thinks maybe he's succeeded.

"I've never had anyone like that," she says, her voice calm, matter-of-fact.

"You can probably count yourself lucky, then," Ianto says. He realizes what a bastard he must sound like, about a second too late. "I didn't mean-" he tries. "Sorry, that came out wrong."

She just smiles, and shakes her head, looking thoughtful.

"I've never thought about Jack like that, you know." She pauses. "Well, once, a long time ago, maybe. But... He's not my type." She winks at Ianto, as if to reassure him, and then stares into her half-empty glass.

"Not mine, either," Ianto says, half-joking, while Tosh's question echoes in his mind somewhere, still searching for an answer.

"I guess he does though, doesn't he," Ianto says, mostly to himself, but to Tosh too, because he trusts her. "Gives me what I want..."

A hundred images flash through his head at once-all those games, calling Jack _sir_ while he chokes down his cock, while he begs, shamelessly for Jack to allow him his release, like he gets off on it, which he _does_, but that's not everything, of course. Ianto remembers the quiet moments too. Jack, asking him about Lisa with that impossibly calm look on his face; Jack, telling him stories about traveling through the stars, and then in the same breath assuring him that being here was better. Jack, trying and failing to make him understand why not being able to die means, more than anything, not being able to really live. Maybe that was somehow supposed to explain _this_. This huge, gaping hole where his heart used to be before Jack just left without a bloody word.

"I don't know what I want half the time, I guess," Ianto admits, resigned.

"Does anyone though?" Tosh says, her brow knitting forward in thought. "I don't know, sometimes I think about what it would be like to get out of all of this, to have a normal life. But then I look at you, I look at Jack, the things we do? And I know wouldn't give this up for anything."

"I can't imagine you doing anything other than Torchwood," Ianto says, pushing Jack out of his mind for a second, and trying to picture it-Tosh with a husband, kids, some high-tech office job, her own company, maybe.

She just smiles, as if she's worked this out before, as if she's already analyzed the data. "It'd be a complete disaster."

There's a moment of silence, and Ianto finishes off his wine, feeling his face warm a little as it settles in his stomach. He stretches his legs out under the table, thinking that he should get going, maybe... And then he realizes that Tosh is sniffling a little, that she's wiping at her eyes with the tip of her finger.

"Sorry, it's just," she starts, already starting to compose herself. "Well, you know, Jack really saved me, back then. It feels like a lifetime ago."

Her voice is breathy, intense, and Ianto can feel the skin prickling along the back of his neck.

He's never really known what to do when people present emotion like this to him. It always ends up making him feel strange, like he can't quite connect the dots properly, like he's missing something essential.

"And sometimes I think, even if he's gone for good, even if we never see him again, well..." She looks up at him and smiles, even though her eyes are sad. "He's still a hero, to me."

"He's coming back," Ianto says softly, because he has to hear himself say those words again, for what must be the hundredth time. "He wouldn't just-"

And Tosh is nodding. "I know, Ianto. I just mean... I can't hate him, you know? Even for this."

"I know," Ianto says, realizing that he does. He doesn't hate Jack either.

"Sometimes I think I don't even care where he is, you know," he says, looking away, staring past her, into the open space behind her, at the back of the couch. "It's so stupid, but I just _miss_ him, that's all. I can't even be mad at him…"

Tosh looks up at him, when his voice falters. He hopes she's going to supply what comes next, because he really doesn't know.

"I know what Owen's been saying," she starts, and he blinks at her in surprise. "Just a shag and all of that, but Ianto... Since you showed up, Jack's been different. Better."

Ianto just stares at her, a bit like she's got two heads, which, all things considered, isn't the strangest thing that he could imagine, given what they've seen, but still.

"I think you could be good for each other," Tosh continues, her voice so earnest it makes Ianto's chest ache. "I think you already are. I think when he comes back, it will be for you."

The room spins around inside Ianto's head for a moment. He suddenly wishes he could lay his head down on the table, block all of this out. But at the same time, his heart is thumping hard in his chest, and he feels...Well, like it's really, really nice to hear someone say that. Like he should be thanking her. Like if he could frame a piece of dialogue, etch it into his skin, it'd be this, right now.

"I think that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said about us." His voice hitches on the last word. "I mean, about him, and me..."

"If I've learned anything from Torchwood, it's that we're rubbish with relationships. You can't trust a word anyone says, especially Owen," she tells him with a small smile. "We've got to be the most bitter people on the planet, if you think about it. Well, except maybe Gwen." Tosh lets out a tiny laugh. "She's a special case."

Ianto smiles, but what he wants to do is hug her, really-he almost wants to let himself fall apart, just so that she can hold him up again.

Tosh leans over, suddenly, and puts her hand on Ianto's. "I'm not trying to be naive, Ianto. I know who Jack is. How he can be."

Ianto just nods, not really knowing what to say.

"I just think that if there's something good about someone, and if you can focus on that, and forget about the rest... You'll be happier. If it's meant to be, the good will always outweigh the bad. You just have to wait it out."

He nods again, feeling something click in his head, just for a second.

He stares back at Tosh, a little in awe, wondering how she got to be so bloody _brilliant_.

* * *

Ianto had told himself he was going to leave after one glass-not because he didn't enjoy spending time with Tosh, but because he wasn't sure how much he wanted to unload on her.

He knew why she'd invited him over. Gwen had done the same thing last week. It was like they were taking turns.

But then she'd seemed so _smart_ all the sudden, and not like she seemed every day on the team, behind the computer, not that kind of smart, but _insightful_, almost wise.

And Ianto had wanted desperately to hear what else she had to say.

And so it'd gone from one glass, to finishing the bottle, and now they were on their second, and had migrated to Tosh's couch like this was something they did every weekend, like it was perfectly natural.

* * *

He's taken off his socks, and he wiggles his toes out in front of him for a second. It feels good, all of this, a little like letting go. And with that, Ianto figures he needs all the practice he can get.

"Sometimes I think I just want things to be normal," Ianto says, sinking back into the couch.

Tosh is watching him, and he knows she must be getting a little tipsy, because her cheeks are flushed, light pink and glowing. She's gorgeous, really-that perfect skin, all that sleek, dark hair. Ianto wonders why he never realized it before.

"With Jack?"

He laughs, a little bitterly. "I know, right? Really fucking ironic." He winces at his choice of words. "Sorry."

Tosh just stares at him thoughtfully. "But don't you think he wants that, too? To be normal?"

"Sometimes," Ianto says. Then he shrugs. "I'm not sure. Sometimes he gets this nostalgic look in his eyes, and I can't tell what he's thinking. If he's happy with me, or if he's remembering someone else. Some better memory."

"Have you asked him?"

"No."

"When he comes back, maybe you should."

Ianto's eyes cloud over for a moment, and he swallows, angry at himself for... all of this, really.

"I don't really want to know, I guess."

Tosh doesn't say anything. She looks lost in thought for a moment.

"All I know is he better remember me like that someday," Ianto says, sniffling a little. He turns to Tosh. "Or I'll kill him," he finishes. He clears his throat and it turns into a laugh. "Not that it would do any good."

Tosh covers her mouth with the back of her hand, and then she's laughing too, and they're both caught up in it for a second, and for a second, Ianto feels absolutely normal, like they're just two friends, sharing a bottle of wine and gossiping about their bastard boss who he just happens to be shagging, and who also just happens to be bloody _immortal_.

"God, he really is a bastard, isn't he," Tosh says, and Ianto stops laughing and just gapes at her for a beat, because he doesn't think he's ever heard her swear before.

"But you know, I wasn't just saying that before," she continues, and that earnestness is back again. "I really do think you're good together, bastard or not." She gives him a long look. "I wouldn't say that if I didn't mean it."

Then her lips go tight, and her brow furrows. "And I know, obviously, it's not easy. You probably shouldn't even listen to me. What do I know, right?" She smiles a little. "But this thing that you have, it's..."

"Probably going to kill me in the end?" Ianto supplies, and then suddenly realizes he might not be kidding.

"So what though, right?" Tosh says, and for a moment her eyes are dark, unyielding. For a moment everything she's ever seen is reflected there, all that darkness-all Ianto's darkness, too, maybe.

"People have died for less," she says, her voice almost a whisper.

Ianto swallows, not really sure how to respond to that, but knowing all the same that she's right, plain and simple.

"And maybe it'll never be normal," she says. "But maybe normal is overrated. We wouldn't be Torchwood if we didn't believe that, right?"

Ianto just nods his agreement, and they both lean back into the couch, staring forward at nothing for a moment.

Then Ianto blinks.

"We need to finish this bottle of wine," he tells her mock-seriously, raising his eyebrows until she smiles, and holds out her glass for a refill.

* * *

An hour or so passes, and all thoughts of going home, of Ianto returning to his empty flat have long since come, and gone. They haven't quite finished bottle #2, but they've put an appreciable dent in it, to say the least.

"He really does, you know," Ianto starts, when the show they've been half-watching goes to commercial. It's out of the blue, but he needs to say this to someone, to her, because it's been rattling around in his brain all night.

"Jack always gives me what I want."

A smile starts in Tosh's eyes, and then finds its way to her lips, as she reaches over and pats his hand affectionately, where he's resting it on the back of the couch.

"Good," she says quietly, like she's waiting for him to continue.

"Even with this… He warned me." Ianto stares at Tosh, wanting her to understand, knowing that she will. "He told me that this might happen. That he might have to leave without saying anything. That there were things he had to take care of. I just didn't really believe him. Or maybe I did, and I just blocked it out."

She squeezes his hand a little.

"Well, next time you'll be prepared."

Ianto just stares at Tosh for a second, and then he smiles, a real, true smile. One that makes him feel a bit more like himself again, as something like hope tugs at a corner of his heart, and he tucks his legs up under him on the couch, taking a long sip of what he swears is going to be his last glass of wine.


End file.
